Part Two: Wherein Atlas Remembers the Worm

    It had been some time since the jump, to Atlas it had been months.  He had already had his fair share of this world.  Since the jump he had killed an eight-foot-long flying worm, which was difficult and unsettling to say the least.  He had ran from a giant "jellyfish dinosaur," the only way he knew how to describe it.  He has endured the shifting pressure and gravity. At the moment he felt as though his head could quite literally explode, along with all of his blood vessels.  His suit was, of course, designed for differing pressures and such, and was doing its job of keeping Atlas alive.  Oh, and he'd vomited inside his helmet after the encounter with the worm.
    That worm.  The vivid memory of the encounter with the worm filled his mind.  When Atlas first saw it, the worm silently glided through the air.  He had just jumped out of the worm's way, as it was originally chasing a pack of creatures that looked like a cross between jellyfish and husks of corn.  But the worm had turned its focus towards him, perhaps deciding it would be easier or more rewarding to kill Atlas.  He had managed to cut the worm roughly in half with his light-edged knife, but the worm persisted.  The two worms persisted.  A thin gray smoke poured out of the red worms after the cut, causing Atlas vision troubles as the smoke seemed to almost stick to his helmet's visor.  One thing he could see very clearly though, the worms were throbbing like nothing he'd ever seen.  Were they angry? Were they hungry?  They darted towards him through the air and he had managed to cut one of them again. And again.  And again.  He couldn't tell you how many pieces he had chopped them into, but he'd guessed it was somewhere between thirty and fifty.  Each.  The smoke had eventually turned lime-green and sunk to the ground as a liquid, covering him in the process.  Atlas didn't know if he could smell it through his helmet, or if he'd just imagined the smell, but it was pungent and disgusting, like the smell of an old corpse in rain.  That was when he'd thrown up.  In fact, just remembering that pulsating fucking worm, and how it smelled, and how the pieces had tried to kill him, and how they smelled--Atlas vomited again.  The memory was too much, it was overwhelming his senses as he was in deep hallucination.  He was close to passing out; he could feel himself willingly let go of his consciousness just to escape the smell.  The fact that he was hungry and exhausted didn't help him any.  He was still boiling inside of his suit.  He wanted to explode.
    Several minutes after Atlas had blacked out his body turned to sleep, while his unconscious mind slipped into a dream state.--